Witch's thoughts: I know how long has it been. sorry! I'm really sorry! but even now, I should be writting my master thesis and yet I finished this one... it's been sitting in my laptop for some time now, waiting for my attention and now is the day^^ not on hiatus anymore!
enjoy!
Sudden, sharp sound of an alarm clock made Maligna jump on the bed, interrupting her by any means nervous sleep. Feeling frantically around, she found her cell phone under the bed and with relief, beeped the alarm off.
Even before she put her glasses on her nose, she knew something was wrong. Looking through lenses explained why she thought so. She was quite sure she didn't have such thing like a skull in her room. Hell, in her whole house.
Maligna moaned, covering her head with a blanket. At the same time, she couldn't not notice that the couch she had been sleeping on wasn't hers as well. With smack on her own head silencing the irritating voice of deduction, she sighed remembering the situation from the night. In the daylight she felt even bigger an idiot than in the yesterday's darkness.
/
Maligna sat down on the couch again.
"Now I should start to shout, proving you to be a perverted kidnapper, but let's skip this part, shall we? I'm tired." She mumbled through fingers, as she covered her face with hands. John blinked, unbelieving, before his mind kicked in with needed information.
"You are that girl… Margaret, was it?"
Ignoring Sherlock who was still sitting on the floor, dumbfounded by the punch, John made two steps inside the room, before he noticed that the girl shivered seeing him approaching.
"That's me." She agreed, but her voice sounded miserable and as tired as she claimed to be. Sitting on the couch, she drew her knees to her chest, encircling them with her arms and the man immediately felt some kind of connection with her. Both of them were brought here by force and deprived from their usual needs by Holmes, because Sherlock's role in Maligna being here was undeniable.
"What…"
"Ask him." Maligna cut John off, pointing at the second man, now again on his feet, even if still holding his cheek that started to swell. Just how strong that girl punched him?
Feeling a little confused, John was looking from Maligna to Sherlock and back again. They watched each other with some strange tension, the man trying to look as innocent as he could and the girl as if she didn't just punch a grown man down. Absurdity of such situation nearly made John laugh, more so because of his lack of food and proper sleep. Instead, he sighed and sat heavily down on the opposite side of the couch.
"Now, the two of you, please imagine that I'm as intelligent as you are and explain, what the hell is going on."
The next hour passed totally unobserved, as the story Maligna started was so ridiculous that it could actually be true, even more when considering the role of Holmes brothers in it. John watched as the girl slouched on the sofa, having finished the story and drawing her knees closer to her chest. He immediately felt sympathy for her, before taking in the situation as a whole.
"So what you are saying is…"
"I'm saying that I've been kidnapped." Maligna nodded indifferently, leaning back and supporting her head on headrest. She closed her eyes. "From the front of my university. Just like that. Doesn't MI6 have anything more important to do than kidnapping students?"
"You must be mistaken, Margaret." John smiled reassuringly. "I think there has to be some sort of mistake… and that's why you are here…"
"Don't worry." Maligna interrupted him, standing up abruptly "I'm going back tomorrow, earliest plane. Don't mind me."
"What about your grant then?" Sherlock emerged from the bathroom where he disappeared minutes ago, only to admire his swelling face in the mirror. His hair were wet.
"My WHAT?" at first glance Maligna seemed calm, but John could tell that she was pissed. Some women give off such a vibe, without shouting and swearing. She did too.
"Scholar grant, my sweet, aggressive Maligna." Sherlock massaged his cheek, but smiled seeing that the girl crossed her arms on her chest as if to prevent herself from punching him again. "Besides, you won't get a pass to leave the country."
"That's taking me hostage." She stated.
John looked at both of the, at short girl and his tall friend. The air seem to be making small crackling noises in space where their eyes met. Silence was getting heavier and more thick, before finally Maligna spoke.
"I'm going to sleep. Lend me your couch."
"You can sleep in my bed." Sherlock said airily with his famous awkward smile. The girl twitched and waved her hand, already getting comfortable on the couch with a blanket, turning her back on them.
"Oh no. I'm not going nearer to you than I am now. Don't talk to me. No, don't talk to me." She barked when John just opened his mouth to say something. "I'm going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow everything will look less ridiculous. Night."
The men had no other choice than to leave the room and turn off the light.
/
Maligna sat up and tried stretching her joint until she heard a satisfying 'pop' sounds. Then she mumbled something offensive under her host's address when she noticed she slept in her day clothes.
"A cup of tea would be nice." She said to herself a little louder, pinching her nose to make her lazy mind work faster. She wasn't an early riser. But, a quiet rustle made her turn her head so abruptly, that for a moment she thought she twisted her spine.
"Oh, you are awake, dear."
Mrs.Hudson, whispered her traitorous mind. Maligna made an effort to silence its voice in her head, but the annoyance stayed.
"Sherlock said you would be sleeping late and I just thought I'd check up on you, if you need anything." Said the woman in the door way. Through her glasses, Maligna quickly eyed her tweed dress and pearls around her neck.
Hediditonpurpose, she heard again and now it was enough. Maligna barked something incomprehensible under her breath.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." She said instead of all invectives that popped up in her head "A cup of tea would be wonderful. If it's not a problem."
Listening to woman's cheerful assurances that it is all perfectly alright and her steps on the stairs down, Maligna hunched tiredly on the couch, blanket pooling on her crossed legs. Even though she slept for quite a time, she felt terribly cranky and broken from lack of proper rest. And stress didn't help either. Maligna tensed. A memory of yesterday made her skin go goose-bumps with shivers. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she didn't like it even one bit. Not that she minded being in London, because she didn't. The thing was, she did mind the way she came here, or actually, the way she was made to come here.
"You're up". Maligna jumped and wanted to scream with frustration from being surprised like that, not hearing when someone was standing at the door to the apartment. Besides, just seeing the younger of Holmes brothers caused her to grind her teeth and to try really hard not to repeat the punching from the last night.
Sherlock was standing in his coat and gloves, leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. Maligna quickly shut her eyes, grey and cloudy like a sky outside the window, trying to prevent her overthinking mind from analysing where he could have been already. As far as the morning went, she already tried to do a lot of things and majority of them involved restraining herself. Tricky.
"Surprised?" she mumbled rudely, standing up. She turned her back at him, folding the blanket and listening to the man move. But he was saying nothing and Maligna nearly felt his amused gaze on her skin. Trying to busy her hands, she even smoothed the cape, but after ten minutes of silence, she couldn't bear with it anymore.
"What?" her voice pitched and sounded more desperate than she wanted it too. Even before herself, Maligna could hardly admit that Sherlock terrified her. A lot. Defensively, she backed off until her legs hit the couch.
Thumping on the stairs was loud like an elephant's steps, once it settled into a rhythm. Detective Inspector Lestrade, as Maligna remembered him, jogged to Holmes with a worried look on his pale and tired face.
"A murder on the Falkland Road. Are you coming?" the man said, watching Sherlock expectantly. Heisexhausted, the mind told Maligna, even though she didn't want to make any assumptions to begin with. But it was hard to ignore, seeing dark circles under Lestrade's eyes and how much his complexion was like an oatmeal. She didn't like to see people like that. It was eating on her mind, a memory of someone looking at her with such eyes, resigned and just simply, deadly tired. She sighed and started to turn to grab her bag to find some clothes to change into after she found shower, but before she managed that, Sherlock grabbed her elbow and pulled with force.
"Of course we are going Lestrade."
When Mrs. Hudson was coming back from her kitchen with a cup of tea in her hands, she just saw that Sherlock was dragging dumbfounded Margaret by her hand and that a policeman tailed after them. Only when the front door nearly shut, Mrs. Hudson could hear that the girl obviously came to her senses, as through the police siren, her high voice was clearly heard.
"You want me to help you with WHAT?"
